


A Rose's Thorn

by grangerweasleys



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Spoilers, Healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 16:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11294859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grangerweasleys/pseuds/grangerweasleys
Summary: When Rose is the victim of a resurgent Death Eater attack, Albus is left with unsaid words. As Rose battles a potentially fatal coma, Albus must find the strength to remedy and close their years of distance and animosity.





	A Rose's Thorn

**I**

Albus Potter often wondered if he would ever be able to recover from three years of constant bullying. At every thud in a corridor, every time he heard his name being called, every sound of someone hurrying behind him… he would still jump, fear rocketing through him, wondering what taunt or physical abuse would be chosen for him this time. 

When his bag fell from his shoulder that morning, his immediate thought was that someone had grabbed it off of him —  it had been a common tactic by the bullies, after-all. 

Albus spun around to see who his assailant was, his left hand clapping down onto his trouser pocket where his wand lay. Though Delphi had created many things within him that he still struggled to overcome, he did not regret his strengthened reflexes.

“Who’s there?” He asked. “James? Are you wearing your cloak again? Dad — Dad told you not to!”

The hallway remained silent and Albus looked down at the floor, frowning. _It must have slipped,_ he thought. _The bullies wouldn’t just leave it on the floor like that._

With his hand still placed on-top of his pocket, and his senses still alert, Albus bent down to pick his bag up. He noticed that the side pocket had been opened and he rushed his hand into it. When he felt the emptiness inside, he groaned.

“Missing something?”

At the sound of his cousin’s loud voice, Albus jumped. “Rose,” he said, eyeing her up. “Yes, I am.” 

Smirking, Rose removed her hand from behind her back and held the scabby bit of paper she was holding out in front of her. She cleared her throat dramatically. “To get from Hogsmeade today: Mum and Dad’s Anniversary Gift! Sweets for Scorpius.” She paused and raised an eyebrow. “The Scorpion King seems to be making enough friends now, especially with his new-found Quidditch skills. Does he really need sweets?”

Albus grabbed the piece of paper from her and scowled. “What is it, Rose?”

Rose’s face fell slightly. “A thank you for picking up your list would be sufficient,” she scoffed. “Do you have any ideas for what to get your parents?”

“No,” Albus said flatly. “I have to go now. Bye, Rose.”

“Albus, wait,” Rose said, grabbing onto his cloak. “I can help you to find something! I’ve already picked out a gift for them, since they’re my Godparents. I’m really good at picking gifts, actually.”

“Good for you,” Albus said. “But I’ll have to turn down your offer. Bye, Rose.”

“Albus!” Rose snapped. “If I have to be clearer, then: I’m wanting to go to Hogsmeade. With you.”

“Did your Dad put you up to this again? I’m smarter than you think I am, Rose.”

“No, he did not!” Rose said, offended. “I’m —" She sighed.

“What? What is it, Rose?”

“I do think we should try and be friends again,” she said. “It wasn’t good for either of us — all of those years, not being friends.”

“You pranced about being Rose Granger-Weasley while I got constantly bullied.”

“Albus!” Rose exclaimed. “I’m — I’m sorry, okay? But I don’t — if we want to discuss these things, perhaps here isn’t the best place? Hogsmeade?” She grinned brightly at him.

“No. Absolutely not. I’ve got enough going on than to delve into the past. O.W.Ls to sit, therapy to have over her.”

At the mention of her, of Delphi, Rose’s face fell and her lip trembled slightly. Though Albus would stubbornly never admit it aloud to himself, he did know that he wasn’t the only one to have suffered. Rose had been scarred by what had indirectly happened to her and her family.  “I’m here for you,” she said, quietly. “And I always will be. Do you remember the time, when we were four, and you wet -"

“Rose!” Albus hissed. 

“Rose, indeed!” A cheerful voice said from behind him. Scorpius. Albus watched as a small smile twitched on Rose’s face when she noticed the beaming boy behind him. “Off to Hogsmeade without me, are you?”

“Thought you weren’t going if I wouldn’t go on a date with you, Scorpion King.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Scorpius said. He held up the thick book in his hand. “A big, juicy read to finish. Enthralling stuff. 18th Century French Wizarding History is absolutely riveting and so scandalous.  This one English born witch, Doris LaCeur, married —"

“I dropped History of Magic for a reason, Scorpius,” Rose said, shaking her head. “I was just saying to Albus, though, that it would be a great idea for me to help him pick out an anniversary gift for his parents. Don’t you think so?”

“Absolutely!” Scorpius said and he titled his head at Albus’s scowl. “I never had any cousins — Teddy and Delphi didn’t count, of course. I think it’s a brilliant idea! And you can keep him right, for when he picks out our anniversary gift one day.” Scorpius winked exaggeratedly at Rose and aimed a gun shot with his finger at her.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Scorpion King, you’re making things _weird_ again,” Rose said, before she allowed herself to smile at him and to lower her voice. She sauntered up to his face and grabbed his cloak. “But as I’ve said, keep asking. Maybe you’ll flatter me into forgiving you for making me disappear twice.”

“It’s been a year and a half!” Scorpius choked out, thoroughly flustered by the proximity of her face.  “And you told me you had to focus on your O.W.Ls!”

“Oh I do,” Rose said, smirking. She pulled away and left Scorpius gasping. “Os’ over boys. I do need to beat your high marks too after-all.” Rose winked at him.

Scorpius blushed, opening his mouth to reply, when Albus cleared his throat. “Such a sincere apology and effort to make amends, Rosie. Completely on your mind, I see. Anyway, I have to go to Hogsmeade. Present to get.”

“Albus!” Rose said, throwing her hands out. “Let me come with you, please! We don’t even need to talk about… stuff. We can just — shop! And talk. Like when we were younger. Rosie and Albie.”

“Yeah, well, if only _Albie_ had known what he would have to go through,” Albus spat as he turned to leave. “Without _Rosie_.”

* * *

**II**

When Albus was summoned to Professor McGonagall’s office alongside his siblings, later that day, his heart leapt as he feared for the worst — the worst for his father.

Perhaps it was four years of a damaged and broken relationship that constantly stirred so much anxiety within Albus for his father. Time with Harry, his _dad_ , not Harry Potter or the Boy Who Lived, had suddenly begun to seem like the most precious thing in the world. Albus wanted to replace every wasted, painful memory that the two had shared with ones filled with love and happiness. He savoured every moment that they shared together, and constantly feared that it would be yanked away from them. 

 “Al?” He heard an anxious voice behind him in the corridor. _Lily_.

Albus turned and forced a comforting smile at his younger sister. “Hey, Lils,” he said and swallowed nervously. “I take it you’re heading to Professor McGonagall’s office too?”

Lily nodded and walked over to her brother. She held his hand. “Yes, I am,” she replied. “Do you think everything’s ok?”

“I’m sure everything is, Lils,” Albus replied, though his voice was shaking. He cleared his throat and motioned forward. “Coming?”

Lily nodded and, together, brother and sister walked to McGonagall’s office. They paused at the door and stared at it as Lily trembled. 

“They’ve never ever called all three of us here before,” Lily said, tears now streaming down her face. “The only time that they did… it was just James and I… when you and Scorpius…”

“Hey,” Albus said quickly, pulling her into a hug and stroking her long, red hair. “It’ll be —“

Albus was interrupted by the sound of Professor McGonagall yanking the door open in-front of them, her usually composed expression visibly twanged by anxiety. Behind her, Albus’s eyes immediately locked onto the sight of his mother and father, alongside James, sitting down by her desk.

“Mum! Dad!” Lily exclaimed, pulling away from Albus and running into her father’s arms. “I thought something had happened!”

The instant relief that had washed over Albus was soon replaced by the same nauseousness as before. It crept up into his stomach, and spread to his dry throat. The silence that filled the air suggested that little was okay.

“Mum? Dad?” Albus said, his voice shaking. He stepped into Professor McGonagall’s office and stared at the four of them. “What’s going on?”

“I will go and attend to the Minis-,” Professor McGonagall paused, her voice deteriorating, before she straightened her posture. _“Hermione_ and Ron.” 

Albus watched as his father stood and nodded at Professor McGonagall. “Thank you, Minevra.”

Professor McGonagall’s gaze flickered over the three children: it was one filled with a weary, tired sadness, and a fear that did not seen uncommon.  She nodded briefly at Harry before leaving the room.

“What’s going on?” Albus demanded again.

“Albus, please sit down,” said Harry, his voice firm but still unable to hide the pain in it.

Albus opened his mouth to object, to further question his father, when Harry lay a soft hand on his son’s shoulder. Albus immediately felt comforted by his father’s touch, the warmth in it, and the reassurance that this was his father who would do everything to make sure that the comfort in his touch would be felt by his son forever. Albus nodded and sat down beside his siblings. 

Harry cleared his throat and stared at his three, sunken children. “Your Hogsmeade visits. They were today.”

James sprang up from his seat. “I didn’t take the cloak! Jack grabbed it from me and he wouldn’t give me it back! He wanted to spy on Niall’s date with Alistair!”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the cloak, James.”

“Oh,” James said, sitting back down. He stared at his father and let his eyes flicker briefly to his mother. When he realised that they were not even going to punish him, he paled. “Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

Harry cleared his throat again and looked down at the floor, unable to face his children’s anxious gazes any longer. He looked up again at the sound of Ginny rising from her seat and walking over to him. She put her hand in his and squeezed it. 

“Rose, your cousin Rose, she was at the Three Broomsticks earlier today,” Harry began and he watched, grimacing, as his children’s faces scrunched up and fell. “And someone, somehow — we _think,_ my department and I, that it was imperio — managed to slip something into her drink.”

“Rose got… what was it called Dad? The thing you warned me about when I went to that Muggle dance? Rose got the _spiking_? Our Rose got the spiking?”

“She wasn’t spiked James,” Ginny said quickly. “It was something _stronger_ than that.” 

Ginny’s voice cracked. At the sound of it, and the tears that were filling in her eyes, Albus felt as if he had been winded. _His cousin Rose._ He stood, as if there was nothing else he could have possibly thought to have done, and made his way over to his mother. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

“It was a potion,” Harry continued for his wife. “And a serious one.”

“She’s in St Mungo’s,” said Ginny. “It’s not — they made a mistake, with the potion.”

“She’s still alive?” Albus mumbled to his mother. “Rose — she’s still alive?”

Ginny nodded. “But she’s not — she’s not been doing very well.” 

“She’s in a coma,” Harry said quietly from beside them. “But the healers — the healers aren’t certain if she’s going to wake up. I have every member of my Auror team looking for them but these things — with the kind of Dark Magic that we are up against now — it takes _time_. For now, we need to focus on being there for our family. Your Aunt and Uncle — they — it’s almost unimaginable.”

_But he can imagine it, can’t he?_ Albus thought. _I did, after all…Dark Magic…_

“They’ve done this because of Delphi,” Albus said, quietly. “They’ve done this because she emboldened them.”

“Albus…” 

“No, Dad, don’t. I’ve read it in the papers… her being alive… her almost killing us, killing _you,_ it’s emboldened them all,” Albus swallowed. “I did this.”

“Albus, none of this is your fault, _none of it,_ ” Harry said firmly. He took his son in his arms and ran his hands through his hair. 

The family sat together for half an hour: James asking questions, demanding answers from Harry; Lily sniffling beside her mother; and Albus sitting in silence by father, his parents’s comfort the only thing that stopped his tears from falling. 

“Professor McGonagall is going to announce it to the school at dinner,” Harry said. “And ask for anyone with any information to come forward. Your cousins already know, and have all gone to the Burrow.”

Lily nodded and wiped a stray tear from her face. “Can we go now? I want to see Hugo.”

Ginny nodded. “Of course. And we can leave any time you want — if it gets too difficult.”

“I’m staying,” James said, suddenly. “I’m staying here. I want to be with my house when they find out.  I’m not leaving them alone. They were — _are_ her friends.”

“And I’m staying too,” said Albus, quieter and less forcefully than his brother. “I need to be there for Scorpius — when he finds out… he’s… he’s suffered with enough loss.”

“Of course,” said Ginny. “Professor McGonagall will be up late tonight with the Ministry. She can arrange for you two to floo back once you have finished.”

James stood and pulled his Mum into another hug. “She’ll be alright. Rose will be. It’s _Rose._ Of course she’ll be alright.”

 

* * *

** III **

Albus had never wanted to sit through Professor McGonagall’s announcement. He had wanted to find Scorpius, take him to their dorm, and tell him himself. Albus knew the smell and sight of food would make his stomach churn in nauseousness. But he arrived too late, entering the Great Hall with James as everyone had already taken their seats and Professor McGonagall walked up to address them all. 

Albus walked over to the Slytherin table, his hands shaking at the idea of the news being told to his best friend, and nearly cried again at the sight of Scorpius. He gazed up at Albus anxiously, aware of the murmurs around him, and the intensity that had filled the Great Hall. 

“Albus,” he whispered. “Where have you been? Is everything alright?”

Albus opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Professor McGonagall beginning her address. The hall fell silent and Albus fixed his eyes firmly onto the floor. What Professor McGonagall had said, he couldn’t recollect later. It went past him, the shock and pain of what had happened to his cousin, his cousin that had been so estranged from him for so many years, prevented him from being able to process what had already been said to him again. 

He was only dragged back into the present by the sound of Scorpius getting up from beside him and rushing out of the Great Hall. No one took notice and Professor McGonagall did not even pause —  the thought and idea of the vivacious Rose laying in a coma being the greatest distraction. 

Albus rose and chased after his friend. “Scorpius,” he called, aware but also uncaring that those inside would be able to hear him in the silence. “Scorpius!”

He turned the corner and froze at the sight of Scorpius laying against a wall, his legs against his chest, and his head in his hands. 

“Scorpius,” Albus said again, his voice breaking. “Scorpius. She’s — she’s going to be alright.”

Scorpius looked up at his friend and grimaced. “We did this, Albus,” he said quietly. “We did this. I — I’ve heard my Dad, I’ve heard _things_ , and I’ve read the Prophet. They — Delphi — she’s… she’s got them all _excited_. What _could_ have been. What we brought back.”

“Scorpius…”

“Rose — Rose could die because of what we did!”

“It — it would never have happened if I — if I hadn’t — maybe if I had went with her… or if…” Albus mumbled, though he was unable to continue. He took a deep breath and thought of what his father had said, and what his mother often told him. “Delphi was never going to go away.”

Scorpius began to wipe the tears from his eyes. “ _Rose._ Rose could be dying right now.”

Albus sat down beside his friend on the cold ground and wrapped his arm around him. “She won’t, Scorpius.”

“She can’t die, Albus,” Scorpius sniffed. “She can’t.”

“And she won’t. This is _Rose,”_ said Albus. “She’ll — she’ll be back to rejecting your offers for a date in no time.”

Scorpius did not smile. He only shook his head and looked up at Albus with a dark expression on his face. “This isn't because I fancy her, Albus, or because I want to go on a date which her,” Scorpius said. “She’s — she’s smart, she’s talented, she’s bubbly and spirited and fierce and all of that could be gone. All of it.”

* * *

**IV**

Albus did not return to the Burrow that night. It seemed cruel to leave Scorpius alone when he had no other friends to turn to. They did not stay up, however, or discuss Rose: they sat in silence until an uncomfortable sleep took both of them under.

Used to frequent bad medical news and learning to mentally cope with them, Scorpius woke up with a changed attitude. “Good morning, Albus,” he said cheerfully when he joined his best friend at breakfast. “Are you going to visit Rose this morning? I’m going to get Dad to order her some flowers for when she wakes up.”

“Maybe,” said Albus quietly. “I’m not sure if I want to.”

“Albus…”

“We didn’t talk, did we, Scorpius? She left me. Left me and allowed me to get bullied for years without doing anything _._ ”

“There were times when she did, Albus,” Scorpius mumbled nervously as he bit down on his fingernails. “And she did _try_ —”

“When her dad made her!”

“Well, there’s not much she can do about it now, is there?” Scorpius snapped back. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know — I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.”

“She’s going to die, Scorpius, and she’s going to die estranged from me,” Albus said, his voice hard. “And — And I’m never going to be able to tell her how _difficult_ it was being me while she was off being Rose Granger-Weasley.  Or — Or how _bad_ I felt making her disappear twice.”

Scorpius did not respond for a long moment. He fixed his eyes on the cereal in-front of him, his mind running in the past, as he thought of what he could possibly say to his best friend. Finally, he looked up at Albus with a small, forced smile. “You can,” Scorpius said. “I know — I know that Rose will wake up and get top marks in her O.W.L.s and her N.E.W.Ts and go on to change the world and, hopefully, go on a date with me. Go and see her, Albus. Speak to her. When — when my Mum, when she fell into her final coma, before she died, I spoke to her. I told her how much I loved her, and how much I would miss her, and miss the smell of her baking in the morning with my Dad, and I promised her that I would always be there for him — since she worried about him so much. And she heard me. She squeezed down on my hand and I knew that she had heard me. Go and see Rose, Albus. Talk to her. Tell her what you need to. Tell her that I’ll stop asking her out if she’ll — if she’ll just wake up. Just do it, Albus. Please.”

“Alright,” Albus choked out, his palms beginning to sweat and clench up. “Make sure you have your flowers ready by noon.”

* * *

**V**

At lunch, Albus received permission to go to St Mungo’s; he stood shaking by the fireplace, his mouth so dry that he could gag, with Scorpius’s extravagant flowers clenched in his hand. He was about to leave, to drop the floo-powder back and storm to his dorm, when he remembered what Scorpius had told him at breakfast. 

Albus had things to tell to Rose, and he would not insult his best friend’s faith. 

“St Mungo’s,” he said in the fireplace as he dropped the floo. 

St Mungo’s was not unfamiliar to Albus. He had been sent there after the fight in St Jerome’s Church, the hospital wing at Hogwarts deemed too light for the psychological and physical trauma that Scorpius and himself had been through. The memory of when Albus had last walked  through these corridors, on that night, left a bitter taste in his mouth. Only the thought of Scorpius, who had been here so often and so bravely with his mother, forced Albus to compose himself. 

“Al?” A voice said from behind him. Victoire.

Albus turned and smiled weakly at her. “Hey, Victoire,” he said. “I’m — I’m here to visit Rose.”

Victoire smiled sympathetically back at him. “She’s through here, with Grandma Weasley,” Victoire said. “The rest have gone back to the Burrow for lunch. Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron want to try, as best as they can, to keep things normal. But we’re not leaving her unattended, ever… in-case she…”

“In-case she dies alone?”

Victoire gasped and held her hands over her face. Albus grimaced, guilt sinking through him, and he walked towards his cousin. He took her into his arms and gently stroked her back. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I — things haven’t been good between us. Between Rose and I. For a while.”

Victoire pulled back, nodding as she wiped her tear-stained cheeks. “She’s going to be ok, and so are you,” Victoire said. “I know of it. D-Do you want me to ask Grandma to sit out here with me? It might be easier… if you go in alone, when you see her.”

Though it was the very last thing that he wanted to do, Albus nodded. 

* * *

**VI**

Rose, to Albus’s surprise, looked exactly the same. Her perfect skin had not been harmed, nor was a perfect hair out of place; Rose looked as if she was in a perfect slumber, in a perfect sense of relaxation, that Albus would never be able to meet despite the fact that she was perfectly dying and he was not. 

The only thing that stood out was the temperature of her skin. “Merlin,” Albus gasped, whacking his hand away at the iciness of her hand. “Well, you can’t accuse me of not trying to sit here and hold your perfect hand like a good cousin. I did try but _that_ — that is not a hand. That’s an ice-cube.”

Though he knew better, though he knew that Rose would not respond, Albus’s mind half expected Rose to come out with some perfect retort. But Rose, or whatever this was in-front of him, remained in a perfect silence.

“These are from Scorpius,” Albus said, putting the flowers down onto the already crowded table next to him. “No offer for a date on the label. I’ve checked. Not that you would care. You’re used to it, aren’t you? And stop kidding us all on. I know you started to like him back after our little escapade. You’re just wanting to pace him out.”

For the first time, Albus realised that he actually _missed_ Rose’s fiery comebacks.

“Well, of course, I do,” Albus said under his breath. “You are dying, aren’t you?” 

Albus grimaced. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “That’s rude of me. But you really should stop teasing and taunting my best friend, Rose. It wasn’t him who made you disappear twice — it was all me, really. And that — that experience was good for you. It was sobering, wasn’t it?”

“Excuse me? Can I come in?”

“Oh!” Albus exclaimed, springing up and away from Rose’s bed. A short and skinny healer was hunched by the door; she retreated at the sight of Albus’s shock, holding her hands up in apology. “No, no, it’s fine. Come in. Sorry… I was just…”

“I did knock,” the Healer said. “But I understand. It can be… _absorbing_ , with patients.”

Albus nodded. “I’m — I’m not very used to this.”

The Healer smiled warmly at him. “Not many are. Albus Potter, isn’t it? I used to sit with your friend, Scorpius, when he was a boy — when his mother…”

Albus hunched over in his seat, a searing annoyance now spreading across his face. “Saw us in the papers, did you?”

The Healer went red. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean —"

“No, sorry, it’s fine. I just…”

“Dislike the attention?”

“Read that in the papers too, did you?”

The healer looked away, hiding the small smile that had appeared on her face. “I’m just here to check on her, to take some regular tests,” the Healer said, once she had composed herself. “Ms Granger-Weasley has been doing well. Nothing —“

“Nothing has changed, but nothing has gotten better, has it?” Albus said. “She’s dying.”

“We don’t know anything for certain,” the Healer said. “The only certainty is the power of faith. Ask your friend, Scorpius, that.”

_And his mum is dead._

“Oh - oh — Mer — Albus, has she been this cold since you arrived?” The Healer asked, patting down Rose frantically.

“I — yes — but I —"

“I’m going to need to go and get someone else,” The Healer said quickly. “Can you wait here with her? Her parents don’t want anyone leaving —”

Albus did not hear her finish. With sweat drenched down his face and his stomach gurgling, he ran out of the room and to the fireplace, where he emptied his stomach.

* * *

**VII**

It had been a week since Rose’s temperature had turned: it had been a false alarm, an unpredictable yet seemingly harmless consequence of the botched potion. Albus had vowed to never set a toe inside of that room again. Scorpius, however, persistently wore him down. 

“It’s strange, isn’t it, how I never once asked for Rose’s favourite flowers,” Scorpius said to Albus as they walked down the corridor to her room in St Mungo’s. “I always went with the typical red roses. Amateur. That must have been why I’ve gotten no where.”

Albus nodded. The thought of seeing her again, laying there, when he had been convinced that she was going to die the last time, made him want to be sick like he had been before. 

Scorpius continued to babble on about Rose as they made their way to her room. Albus knew that it was to hide the deep anxiousness that Scorpius’s felt over it all: the familiar sights and sounds of this particular ward in St Mungo’s, the waiting, the not knowing. So he let his best friend continue, unable to take that comfort away from him. 

When they reached the small, brightly lit corridor leading into her room, Scorpius and Albus found James waiting outside of it. His usually mischievous face pale, he nodded briefly at his brother before calling into the room. “Hugo, Dominique,” he said. “They’re here.”

Albus and Scorpius briefly exchanged sympathy with the distraught Hugo and Dominique. The silence and the knowledge of Rose laying in the other room prevented any other conversation. 

Albus and Scorpius then made their way into her room and did so through taking strength from each other’s presence. Neither boy had to walk in alone and, in that moment, that knowledge was their greatest strength. 

Scorpius inhaled when he saw her laying there and Albus could hear him begin to cry. He laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “Just pretend she’s sleeping,” he said.

Scorpius, desperately trying to compose himself as he wiped away tears from his cheeks, shook his head. “That only works for so long,” he said, before moving forward to her bed. He placed his flesh flowers on the table beside her and sat down, taking her hand in his. “Her temperature has gone up again.”

Albus nodded. “Yeah, Mum and Dad said so,” he said. “No one really knows what to expect. The healers that work in potions… they’re trying but…”

Scorpius looked up from Rose and smiled sympathetically at him. “But these things are complex. Complicated. Take time.”

Albus sat down on the other chair and peered at his cousin. She looked exactly the same as she had done before: perfect, in the most perfectly infuriating way. “They’ll crack it, eventually,” he said, though it was just so he could say something.

“Did you tell her?” Scorpius asked suddenly. “Have you told her what you wanted to say? What you needed to say?”

“Scorpius —" Albus said, cautioning him. The eery silence of the room and Rose’s body, just laying there, was already enough to put him on edge. He could not be pushed further.

“Albus, you need to,” Scorpius continued, his voice desperate. “You will regret it if you don’t. I’m — I’m your best friend, Albus, and I can’t just not let you.”

“Scorpius, no,” Albus said. “You do not understand. Stop.”

“Then I can leave. I’ll go back to Hogwarts now, and you can tell her what you need to tell her,” Scorpius said. He got up and Albus immediately stood up with him. 

“Sit down, Scorpius,” he said. His voice rose. “Sit down and let’s just talk about something else. The weather. O.W.Ls being postponed. Anything.”

“No,” Scorpius said, his voice clear. “I’m not going to let you do this.”

“Scorpius, sit down!”

Scorpius did not flinch. He did not keep his eyes away from his best friend’s. “I won’t let you do this, Albus,” Scorpius repeated. “I’m your best friend and I can’t.”

“SCORPIUS, WILL YOU SIT DOWN!” Albus roared. The two boys stood in silence, Albus heavily panting and Scorpius refusing to look away from him. “Do you remember what you told me when Lily was sorted? Do you?”

“Albus —"

“No. Don’t.” Albus said. “You told me that the Potters don’t belong in Slytherin. And do you know who was a constant reminder of that, every day of my life? Her. Rose. The body that is laying there, fighting for her life. Every. single. day, Scorpius. It wasn’t just the Potters. It was my whole, entire family: Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor… but never, ever, Syltherin. My entire family. And she was a constant reminder of that.”

“Albus, I know —“

“No, you don’t,” Albus retorted. “Because you’ve always worshipped her and refused to see what she did to me. She abandoned me: left me to be bullied, didn’t care for me. Thrived as a perfect Gryffindor, the perfect daughter of _The_ _Trio,_ while I got hexed and tripped up and called names until I learned not to cry myself to sleep every night.”

“What Rose did, I know she regrets, Albus,” Scorpius said, his voice a deliberate quiet. “She — I saw her, sometimes. She did — she did what she could. But — Albus, she knew — the same as you — she had to live up to this ideal —"

“WILL YOU STOP DEFENDING HER!” Albus yelled. He clawed at his face and walked across the room, now unable to stand the close proximity to Rose. “Brave Gryffindors. Ha! Some bravery she had.”

“James and your cousins — none of them either —"

“I expected more from Rose,” Albus said, his voice breaking. “I expected more from her and she didn’t even do the bare minimum. So forgive me, Scorpius, if I’m angry for years of her failures and if I’m angry that she’s now laying in a possible fatal coma and breaking my heart and forgive me, Scorpius, if I cannot stand to watch her lay here and die anymore.”

Albus reached for the door.  Scorpius, with his sharp reflexes from being Slytherin’s new star keeper, sprung forward and patted his hand away from the handle. “Albus, please…”

“SCORPIUS, WILL YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Both boys jumped back in shock when the door flung open; the same nurse that Albus had met before entered and her mouth dropped when she realised the tension in the room. Though Albus did not want to admit it, he could feel her empathy as she took in the sight of them. She understood the pain and the trauma that they were going through from a career of witnessing the same. 

“Mr Potter,” she said, quietly and tenderly. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Come with me for a chat, please —"

“I have things to do,” Albus snapped. “But I will gladly leave.” He picked up his bag from the ground and looked at Scorpius. “And don’t come and find me at dinner.”

* * *

**VIII**

Scorpius had never quite decided on what he had wanted to remember from his fourth year. There had been some memories that he was quite fond of: the realisation that he had a best friend to go on an adventure with — something that he had dreamed of for all of those years, alone and isolated at the Manor. His hug with his Dad, a year and a half later, still made Scorpius smile and feel warmth in his stomach. He had replayed it in his head for weeks after and vowed to never forget how his Dad’s touch had felt after hours of hopelessness and years of distance between the two.

Scorpius had always treated the memories of that other world with caution. They were painful, the torture that he witnessed often horrific, and he had suffered many a nightmare over them. But they also served as a strong reminder: a strong reminder of the evil that had existed, that would always exist, and the necessity of constantly fighting against it. 

Then there was Delphi: a creepy but tragic figure. Her face made Scorpius shudder as he spent hours studying her photograph in the _Prophet_ , analysing her bone structure, lips, and eyes and looking at his own distantly related face in the mirror until Draco painfully begged him to stop.

He remembered her voice clearly, how it had changed when she revealed herself, and how she had manipulated him in retrospect. All of those lies about being ill, about never going to Hogwarts because of it, how she used his loneliness and his desperate need for a friend against him. 

There had been that one thing that she had said to him, that had always stuck in Scorpius’s mind. He fumbled over what she had said exactly, but remembered what she had meant. _That’s the thing about friendships, you don’t know what they need, only that they need it —_ or something along those lines, at least.

Delphi had been wrong. She had never experienced true friendship, or true anything. 

Scorpius, at that moment, very much knew what his best friend needed.

“I told you not to come,” Albus had said when he saw Scorpius approach him. He was sitting against a tree by the lake as the sun set, uncaring as the light rain spat down around him. 

“Well, I told you not to jump off a train in our fourth year,” Scorpius said, smiling as he sat down beside him. “And you didn’t do that, did you?”

“Very funny,” Albus scowled. “I just want to be left alone.”

“Then tell me to leave,” Scorpius replied. “And I’ll leave.”

Albus watched the lake in-front of him in silence before sighing. “I’m sorry for shouting at you earlier,” he said, looking across at his friend. He visibly relaxed as he did so, the comfort of having his best friend there washing through him. “I just — I don’t know how to handle this. Any of this. What’s happened.”

“It’s fine,” Scorpius replied. “I — I understand how the rooms at St Mungo’s can be.”

“I still love her,” Albus said, suddenly. “I just don’t think I quite realised how much I loved her until this… until all of this happened.”

Scorpius nodded. “She’s your cousin, Albus. Of course you do.”

“She is? Wouldn’t have known that with my best friend constantly fantasising about her to me,” Albus said. He grinned and playfully punched Scorpius’s arm. “She tried to make amends with me again before I left for Hogsmeade."

“I thought as much,” said Scorpius. “People — people make mistakes, Albus and I think we both agree on why she did what she did, and why you did what you did.”

“I don’t blame her. Well — I don’t when I’m calm, at least. I don’t think it’s particularly easy being a Granger-Weasley either, is it?”

“No. I don’t think it is,” Scorpius replied as they both thought of Rose’s lifeless body in that room.  “They targeted her because she was their daughter.”

The boys sat in silence for several minutes: their minds wandering as they listened to the rain gently fall onto the lake, the sounds of birds chirping in the distance, the laughter of those who had already finished their dinners. 

“We know better than many, many others the dangers of not saying what we feel, or why we feel,” Scorpius said, finally. “It’s — It’s why you struggled with your dad, and why I struggled with my dad. And we got past that. We speak to them now, Albus, and it is wonderful.”

Albus nodded.  He removed his gaze from the lake in-front of him again and looked at Scorpius. “It is,” he agreed. “I just… with Rose…”

“It’s difficult, Albus, I know that,” Scorpius said. “But with Mum — If I hadn’t been able to tell her what I needed to… I can’t imagine how I would be coping right now.”

Albus sighed. “It’s not that. I’m just — I’m just used to pushing her away,” Albus said. “I know she tried — for all of those years but I just… I couldn’t.”

“You can get past that,” Scorpius said gently. “I know you can.”

“But how do I act around her, Scorpius? So much has happened since then. Since we were eleven years old. I just — I have no idea.”

Sensing that his friend was struggling, Scorpius laid his hand on his shoulder. “It was worse with your Dad, wasn’t it? And on the bright side: you don’t need to… well, you don’t need to travel back in time and nearly die at the hands of Voldemort’s daughter and then watch your Grandparents get murdered. All you need to do is walk into St Mungo’s.”

“Excellent, Scorpius. I’m prepared for life.”

“You and Rose can make amends, Albus,” Scorpius said. “Yes, things have changed. Things had changed with my Dad and things changed with your Dad. But you and Rose — I know that you can go in there and speak to her, regardless of the past five years.”

“I… I…” Albus sighed and swallowed. “You’re right.” 

Scorpius grinned at his friend and stood up.  “And, while we’re reminiscing,” he began. “We also learned that these things should never be done alone. I can come with you.” 

Albus followed Scorpius up and hugged him. “I’ll be ok,” he said as he pulled away and grinned. “Using me to get close to my cousin, Scorpius, aren’t you?”

“Albus!” Scorpius exclaimed, swatting him — though he soon smiled again. “Let’s go and see if there’s any left-overs from dinner, shall we?”

The boys walked up to the castle, laughing and relishing their few moments of happiness. Scorpius understood how wrong Delphi had been, how wrong she was about many things in-fact, and how wrong her followers were in believing that they would be able to destroy what Albus’s and Rose’s parents had fought so hard for.

* * *

**IX**

 The following morning, with his fists firmly clenched, Albus walked down the corridor to Rose’s room. 

He had desperately tried to rehearse what he would say to her the night before. It had been in vain: every time his mind would try and push through, the anxieties and difficulties of the conversation firmly placed their solid walls up.

_“It’s just you and Rose in that room,” Scorpius had told him by the fireplace before he had left. “No one else. Don’t be embarrassed. Just say what you need to say.”_

But embarrassment was the last of his emotions at that moment. Albus paused at the corner turning into her room and felt his anxiety flare up. He tried to remember what his Mental Healer had told him… _deep breaths… it will pass…_

“Albus?” 

“Mum,” Albus said, looking up. Though it did not clear the symptoms that he was feeling, his mother’s presence was a comfort: he walked towards her and let himself be embraced. “Did you get my owl?”

“I did,” Ginny murmured as she rubbed his back. “I’m with your Aunt Hermione, we’re just about to leave. We’re coming back later with your Uncle Ron — unless you want me to stay?”

Albus shook his head and pulled away. “I can watch over her,” he said. “I’m okay.”

“I’m proud of you,” Ginny said, cupping her son’s face. “Of all of you. I can’t image, knowing how close this is… it could have been…” Ginny moved her palm up to her face and sobbed into it.

“Mum, it’s okay, we’re okay,” Albus said, his voice heavy and tears now forming in his eyes. “Don’t cry.”

“It just reminds me, of when…” Ginny sobbed before she stopped herself. Rubbing her eyes, she placed both hands on Albus’s shoulders and pulled back. “Crying will do nothing. I love you, Albus.”

“And I love you too, Mum,” Albus said. He heard a door shut and footsteps coming towards them. Hermione appeared, her usually polished and professional attire slightly messed, and deep, black bags under her eyes. Albus tensed. “Hello, Aunt Hermione.”

“Oh, Albus,” Hermione said, embracing him. “How have you been? Your Grandma saved some leftovers from dinner last night.”

Albus remembered the rejected invitation and winced. “I’m sorry — I just —"

“Albus, it’s okay. Rose will appreciate you coming.”

Albus’s lip began to tremble and he felt his mother take his hand in hers and squeeze it. “I brought her these,” he said nervously. “Flowers from Scorpius and a card from me.”

Hermione stroked one of the white roses from the large bouquet and smiled. “Hopefully his flowers will talk some sense into her,” she said, looking at Ginny and smiling. 

“Maybe not. She is you and Ron’s daughter, after-all,” Ginny replied. “Ready?”

“Yes, I am,” Hermione said and she turned back to Albus. “We’ll be back at half twelve. Owl the Burrow if you need anything.” 

Albus nodded and smiled weakly when his Aunt planted a kiss on his forehead. She straightened her posture and composed herself before stepping forward. Albus turned to his mother. “I’ll be alright,’ he said. “Don’t worry about me, Mum, please.”

“It’s my job to worry,” Ginny said, with a small smile. “I’m your Mum but, as your Mum, I know the strength that you have, Albus. You’ll be okay.”

Ginny wiped the falling tears from her son’s face and gently stroked his hair. She did not seem to want to go: the agony of knowing why Rose was attacked, and what her son’s second name represented, firmly attached her to her own blood. But, at last, she pulled back. “I’ll see you at half twelve,” she said, before leaving Albus alone in-front of Rose’s door.

* * *

~~~~ **X**

Though he absolutely knew better by now, it still jarred Albus to find Rose unchanged and unmoving from when he had last left her. Her surroundings had changed — new flowers added, new cards in place — but Rose had not.

With all of his strength, he walked towards the windowsill and awkwardly hovered over it with his card. “What am I supposed to do?” He said. “It’s not as if you can open it. Who’s been putting these here?” He laughed nervously. “I’ll just open it then.”

Albus teared the envelope open and cleared his throat. “To Rose,” he began. “Hope you get better soon, to watch Gryffindor lose at Quidditch. Lots of love from your cousin, Albus.” Albus placed the card down and turned to the flowers. “From Scorpius. Again.”

His eyes flickered to the other flowers surrounding him and the notes within them. “Oooh, you do have many admirers, don’t you?” He said. “Not that I’m biased, but none of these boys are as good as my best friend.” He swished the adoring flowers aside and proudly placed Scorpius’s in their place. “Even your Mum knows you’ve started to fancy him so the game is up.”

Albus had his mouth open to continue when he clocked another name in the flowers. “You’re friends with _Naomi Thompson?_ And you didn’t tell me? And _Vince Skeete_? If I knew you could be the best wing-woman ever, I would have made amends way before now.” Albus paused. “But don’t repeat that.”

The silence in the room suddenly became uncomfortable, a perturbing reminder that Rose was unable to respond. Albus turned to look at her again, his stomach churning at the sight, and he clenched his hands together. He remembered, again, what Scorpius had said, and his own mother’s love for him. 

Both of them loved him and were able to express it: that was a wonderful, wonderful thing, and Albus would do the same for Rose.

“I’ve — I’ve never stopped loving you,” he said, quietly. “You’re my cousin.” Albus sat down beside her bed and took her hand in his.

He sighed. “I know why you left me that day. Look at you. You know just as well as I do, what it’s like… being their son or daughter. Your Mum… I — I don’t blame you, for laying a prejudice on Scorpius because of his Dad — because it is hard. It is hard being all of us, growing up after that war.”

Images of his past self, in his fourth year, coming up from the lake and his confusion at Scorpius’s joy to see him flashed through his mind. He remembered when he had found out what he had caused, the horror that he had felt, and the feeling of the sick coming out of him as his equally as devastated Mum tried to dry him. 

“And you were young — you were young and suspicious and had to confront the knowledge that his dad had gotten involved with an organisation that wanted to kill your parents. I — I understand, Rose. I want you to know that. But I — It’s not — It’s not just…”

Albus cleared his throat. “Scorpius and I… what we went through was… it was hard.  Being bullied like that. I — I can’t even begin to describe how alone I felt, even with him as my friend. Hogwarts seemed unbearable, and so was being at home with my dad. I was… lonely, more depressed than I am now, and I envied your — your easy life. And a part of me — a part of me wondered if things would have been easier if you had stayed with us…if — if you had just de-defended me.”

Albus’s voice began to break. He shoved his hand into his pocket and took out the tissues that Scorpius had given him earlier. He allowed himself to pause, to compose himself, and to wipe the tears from his face with his shaking hand. At last, he took a deep breath and continued.

“I just wanted you to defend me. To stick up for me. Not just you — James, Dominique, anyone. But no one did or — or — if they did, I pushed them away. It was sore, and it was difficult, and it was messy, and what I’m trying to build up to say is that _I forgive you._ I forgive you because I’m far from perfect either, Rose. I forgive you.”

Just as he had expected Rose’s body to have changed, to have moved, to have done _something_ ,  Rose’s silence ripped through Albus with a vicious uneasiness. She had always been so _loud_ , so confident in whatever she had to say, that her lack of response was an awful reminder of the seriousness of the situation and the prospect of her death. The acknowledgement of this, alongside the pounding silence in his eardrums, made Albus gag and his eyes water. 

He reached for the handkerchief again and desperately dabbed at his eyes. “And it’s not — this isn’t like my Dad and I,” he continued, his voice hoarse. “My Dad and I — we still, of course we still had a relationship — for all of those years. A - a bad one, but not like us: we — we didn’t have one.”

Albus hid his face in his hands and let out a muffled sob. “And I was afraid,” he said, against his palms. “That with us, if we — if we ever, became friends again, I don’t know how it would work — and I don’t know — if it would be like — accepting how much has changed since that — since that September First.”

“I — I — after everything, after the bullies, after Delphi, It’s been difficult, Rose. I have nightmares. I can’t trust anyone because of her. I’m — I’ve had a lot of awful, awful thoughts. I see a… I see a Mental Healer once a week. I’m not the same boy you left in that carriage and my life isn’t as easier as it was back then — and I — I — and I can’t lose you too.”

At saying and hearing those words out-loud, Albus moaned and clamped down onto his lip to prevent any further noises from escaping. His face was raw, his eyes a distressed red, and snot had oozed down onto his lips. Sniffling, he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

“I can’t lose you too,” he repeated. “Scorpius — Scorpius — Scorpius said that, with his Mum, she squeezed down onto his hand …when he spoke to her… Rose.. can you..”

Albus waited in the dreadful, unmoving silence. When the realisation came that there was no pressure on his hand, he cried again and stood up. Very carefully, he climbed onto the bed and curled up against his cousin. He rubbed her shoulder as he cried into the sheets. 

“Rose, please. Please do something,” he said, clamping down onto her hand so that he could at least feel _something._ “I — I remember — before all of this happened, when you came to me before Hogsmede. You were about to tell me that story — when — when James, he gave me a fright and I wet my pants.” Albus let out a small laugh. “And you ripped them off because I was so embarrassed, so that none of our cousins would know, and you told everyone that you had stolen my pants. And I wish — why can’t we — why can’t things… Rose, _please._ ”

“It was a squirrel.”

The sound of his cousin’s low murmur convinced Albus that he had gone delusional with grief. _Her voice is going to haunt me,_ he thought and he bitterly remembered Scorpius recalling how the dementors had made him hear his Mum’s voice. But the frightening prospect of delusion was soon replaced by an icy shock running through his veins — at the sight of his cousin’s alert, brown eyes looking into his. 

“It was a squirrel,” Rose said, her words slurring. She sounded as if she had been awakened from a deep, sleep-deprived slumber. “James didn’t scare you. A squirrel did, Albus.”

“Rose!” Albus exclaimed. “Rose!” He jumped up and cowered back; his body needing to see her from a distance, to see all of her moving, to believe what was happening.

Rose blinked at Albus, scrunching her face up. She gazed at him curiously, before her eyes flickered to the surroundings beside her. Her face fell and she let out a winded gasp.

“Where — what — why…” She choked out. “Albus, what’s wrong? Why am I here?” 

Albus rushed forward when he realised that she was trying to remove herself from the bed. He held her back down, hugging her tightly as he did so, and kissing the top of her head. “No, don’t move!” he said. “I — I — you’re alright!”

“Well, I don’t seem alright! I’m in St Mungo’s! What happened? I can’t — I can’t remember, everything is so blurry! Did I get into a Quidditch accident? Dumbledore! No one can score against Scorpius like I can!”

Albus burst out laughing and stared at her in disbelief. “I - I need to go and get someone,” Albus said, before he remembered the unprecedented nature of the botched potion she had taken. She looked alright, she seemed alright, and she was behaving alright but he would not leave her alone. He gripped his wand. “I won’t leave you.”

Rose opened her mouth to respond, a confused and powerless scowl now on her face, before she settled. “Well, I am in St Mungo’s,” she said. “I better listen to my baby cousin for once.”

“I’m not your baby cousin!” He exclaimed, before realising the more pressing concern of getting Rose a healer. “Right — I’m going to summon someone — Just lay here, don’t move.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I’m all stiff. I don’t think I even could,” she said. A small smirk appeared on her face. “And it was a squirrel that made you wet your pants, not James. You were horrified by them after one stole your lunch.”

“It _was_ James!”

“No it was not!”

“Yes, it _was_!”

* * *

**XI**

At the sound of her front-door being chapped and at her father, cousin, and Scorpius’s voices, Rose quickly flicked her wand and sent the textbook she had been reading across the room. She was cozied up in her large, double bed; Ron would come in every hour or so and lovingly smooth over her blankets and fluff her pillows up. Flowers and cards, from across the global Wizarding world, surrounded her — but Rose was not content. She wanted to study.

O.W.L’s had been postponed until that October and Rose had found it absolutely ridiculous when she had asked about them. She had made a mental note to raise it with Professor McGonagall in September. Even worse, her parents had banned her from studying until they deemed her to be better. Though Rose had, reluctantly, accepted that she was in no state to study with her aching bones, fatigue, and occasional headaches, it did not mean that she couldn’t sneak in the occasional textbook when she felt like it.

After-all, what more would her attackers want than for her to fail her exams because of what they had done? To wallow away in fear and not achieve her dreams? Not contribute to achieving a better Wizarding World one day? Rose would certainty not allow it — unable to get out of bed or not. 

“Rosie,” her father called at her door and pulling Rose from her thoughts. “Albus and Scorpius are here.”

“Come in!”

Ron opened the door and Rose wondered, for not the first nor last time, if the intensity on his face would ever melt away. It was a love that screamed out, unable to be denied; the love of a father who had breathed without the guarantee that his own daughter would live. 

“How are you feeling, Rosie?” Ron asked and he came forward to fix her blankets and pillows. “Did you take your potion?”

“Of course I did, Dad,” Rose said. “My bones hurt far too much without it.”

Ron frowned and the creases in his tired, weary face stood out. 

Rose took his hand and squeezed it in response to his worry. “But I’m okay, don’t worry about me.”

Ron nodded, although as if to convince himself, and he leaned in to softly kiss his daughter’s forehead.  “Are you hungry? Do you want lunch? I can make your favourite,” he said and turned around to look at Albus and Scorpius. “Anything for you two?”

“I’m fine, Uncle Ron,” Albus replied.

“No, sir!” Scorpius exclaimed. “My — my Dad… _No_! Not my Dad! I - _I_ made my _own_ lunch. Cheese and pickle.”

“I hate cheese and pickle,” Ron said.

“Dad!” Rose said. “How about you leave me to catch up with my lovely cousin and the lovely Scorpius, who has wonderful taste in sandwich fillings?”

“You’ll shout Hugo if you need anything?” 

“You know I will, Dad,” said Rose. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Alright,” replied Ron. He gave his daughter another kiss on her forehead before he left Rose’s room, staring curiously at Scorpius as he did so. 

“Hi,” Rose said, brightly, to Albus and Scorpius once Ron had left. “Have you gotten taller, Scorpius? _Again_?”

Scorpius and Albus stared back, awestruck, and now only fully comprehending that this was Rose — a talking, moving, and living _Rose_. Albus quickly moved his gaze away and focused on the flowers and cards. Scorpius continued to stare, his mouth slightly dropped open, as if he had never seen a more glorious sight. 

His silence and unmoving frame was interrupted by a sudden gasp escaping his lips. “Your flowers!” Scorpius said. “I forgot your flowers!”

“It’s alright.” Rose replied. “You sent me a bouquet a day when I was in St Mungo’s. I counted.” 

Scorpius beamed. “Even when I didn’t visit,” he said, softly. “It’s — it’s — it’s… _wonderful_ to see you again. Well, not that — I did see you —“

Scorpius’s stuttering came to an end when Rose put both of her arms out in-front of her in the air. Scorpius was left unable to fathom what was happening.

“What? No hug from the Scorpion King?”

“Oh!” Scorpius squeaked. He rushed towards the side of her bed, stumbling as he did so, and threw himself on her. He held her tightly, tears forming in his eyes, and a roaring relief filling his entire body at her touch. “You have no idea how much I dreamed of this moment when you were… I — Rose — I’m…”

“It’s okay,” Rose said and she rubbed his back. “It’s all over now.”

Scorpius pulled back, longing to see her animated face up close. “Yes - yes it is,” he said, breathlessly. “And now — and now —“

“And now you can take me on a date.” 

Scorpius stumbled back and tripped on the edge of a blanket that had slopped onto the floor. Rose grabbed onto him, holding him up, and grinned. 

“What?” She teased. “Is that such a horrific thought?”

“No!” Scorpius choked, so loudly that it bordered a guttural yell. “No, no it is not!”

“Good, Scorpion King. When it no longer hurts for me to walk, we’ll choose a Muggle city. Not London, it’s too crowded. Somewhere nice and leafy and somewhere where the papers won’t find me,” she said. “It sounds lovely, doesn’t it?”

“A-A-Absolutely!” Scorpius screeched. “And - and we will have a picnic! With cheese and pickle sandwiches! A large mountain of cheese and pickle sandwiches!”

“I absolutely cannot wait,” Rose replied. She reached out and took his hand. “Thank you, Scorpius. For the flowers.”

At her touch and words, Scorpius relaxed. He smiled at her: not nervously, not with his jaw tensed, but with a genuine and beaming adoration. Rose allowed herself to be melted by it. “I will send you the forgotten ones tonight,” he said. “And a bouquet every day, until you’re all better.”

“I will be watching by my window,” Rose said, and they smiled at each other. Rose turned to look at Albus, though she had not forgotten his presence: he had been watching the pair happily but, when Rose turned, his face tensed. Scorpius turned and noticed it too.

“I — Rose, is your brother in?” He said quickly. “I found this wonderful book on the history of the Chudley Cannons.”

“My Dad supports them too, you know. You could go downstairs and tell him about it.” Rose laughed at Scorpius’s paling face. “I’m kidding. Hugo’s in his room.”

Scorpius stuck his tongue out and turned to leave. He looked at Albus, with his poor fists clenched and his cheeks red, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I believe in you two,” Scorpius whispered to him. He squeezed his shoulder and quietly shut the door behind him.

The silence between the two cousins was, perhaps, the most awkward and painful that it had ever been. Albus forced himself to not look away from her. Rose gazed at him in the way that she had a habit of doing: eyeing him up, trying to suss what the cousin she rarely understood was feeling and why. At last, she cleared her throat and forced a cheeky, bright smile.

“Easier for you when I was in a coma?”

“Well, it’s always infinitely more easier without your comebacks.”

Rose and Albus stared at each other in silence for a split second before bursting out into loud laughter. Rose expanded her arms out, as she had done with Scorpius, and Albus rushed towards her. Their hug was fierce and loving: the climax of years of distance, Rose’s longing for amends, and Albus’s heartbreak over her recent predicament. 

As she patted his back, Rose mumbled against the side of his face: “I could hear things,” she said and Albus froze.

“What?” He said, pulling back. “Well — no — that’s — I  - I meant everything I said.”

Rose’s face turned solemn. “But I couldn’t make out the words,” she said quickly. “Everything was a mumble, but I could feel the emotions. Like when you and Scorpius had your argument, I knew—"

“Sorry about that,” Albus interrupted, a small and sheepish smile on his face. “Probably not the most relaxing thing for a person in a coma to hear.”

“Well, what else could I expect from Albus coming to visit?” Rose said. The grin that had appeared on her face quickly vanished when Albus looked at the ground, guilt across his face. Rose reached over and took his hand. “But I could feel your hand and your touch on the day I woke up, Albus, and it was one of love. It — it made it easier to come back to the surface again. I promise.”

Albus looked up at Rose again, his expression uncomfortable and flushed at her words, and his lip trembling. Rose squeezed his hand and Albus took a deep breath. “I’m not very good at this,” he said quietly. “You’re better at this than I am and you’re right, it _was_ easier when you were in a coma. But — but what I’m — I’m trying to say is that I want us to be friends again… like… like you always wanted.”

“Albus….”

“I — I don’t think — not right now — but we’ll have lots of time — to talk and to — what I said…”

Albus was interrupted by Rose flinging her arms around him, so harshly that she grimaced in pain despite the potion she had taken. “Oh, Albus!” She exclaimed. “Don’t be silly! Of course, of course I want to be friends again! Like when we were little. And you’re quite right, we do have plenty of time to…”

“Rose, you’re hurting me!” Albus gasped as Rose continued to squeeze him tighter and tighter. “We’ll have plenty of time to —"

“Squirrel! At my window!”

“Ah!” Albus gasped, pulling free of Rose’s grasp on him and falling to the floor. He jumped up, alert, and crouching as if ready to to pounce. “Where?!”

Rose howled with laughter. “I told you it was a squirrel!”

“Very funny, Rose!” Albus spat. “But don’t get too relaxed. I have an infinite amount of teasing ready for when you go on your date with Scorpius.”

“Mmm hmm, try it,” said Rose, though she smiled at him. She reached out for his hand and the pair were soon entwined again.  “I love you, Albus.”

“I know,” Albus replied. “And I love you too.”


End file.
